My mother was not allowed to enter the house that I paid half the rent for. And I apologized profusely, just as I had been expected to. There was no joy, no grief, no pain, no panic, no relief, no ecstasy, no longing – only this unthinking anger that simmered and flared within you. You called us names, and I apologized profusely.
I want to say this just once, on this bright Californian, spring afternoon, when I have effectively removed all traces of that girl who apologized from my being – I take solace in this one fact – in all of the grotesque scenes that played out and have remained like tableau pieces from a frightful parade in my memory, at least I got to play me.